Empire of Shadows

For the residents of Zhuolan, the past month had been utterly surreal.

First, they experienced the swift collapse of the Diego regime.

Actually, to call it swift might not be accurate. At least, it lasted for over a year, which was a kind of... success.

To endure for so long under multiple pressures and attacks, viewed from another perspective, Diego, his government, and his army were not entirely incompetent.

The people witnessed the man they once weren’t even qualified to look up to, drink a glass of iced fruit juice, and die on the execution block.

For the locals, this was the end of an era; the period of the Ravila family’s rule over Rapa had concluded at that moment.

Then, just as they began to harbor a slight expectation for the new government, the ministers and tribal chieftains announced that the nascent government was illegal and that they would exterminate the anti-government forces to restore glorious rule.

Any glimmer of hope for a new era—for liberty, human rights, and democracy—that had just begun to rise in people’s hearts was instantly extinguished.

Within just five days, gunfire echoed outside the city once again.

The citizens, having experienced one cleansing by routing soldiers, began carefully hiding their possessions, and themselves.The entrance to the concession was once again crowded with people desperate to enter. Beautiful girls and handsome young men exhibited themselves around the concession entrance and exit, like items up for offer.

They hoped that a resident inside the concession might take them in.

Pedro had not rested well since the day he learned the tribal states were moving against him.

His mental state was likely fragile during this period. When he was alone, whenever he looked in the mirror, he sometimes saw Diego.

Sometimes it was the normal Diego, sometimes it was Diego holding his own severed head. He would smile at Pedro—a sinister, terrifying smile—often startling Pedro.

He didn’t know if this was Diego’s curse. He still remembered Diego’s final words, his curse that he would wait for them.

Perhaps the curse had been fulfilled.

Pedro knew he shouldn’t think this way, but he couldn’t help it. It was like knowing something was wrong, but once a certain switch was flipped, you closed the door, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

People usually know what is right and wrong; knowing, doing, and refraining from doing are two different things.

Pedro was nearing collapse. He was forced to walk the same path Diego had walked, though not including the long period of rule before the siege; he was only walking Diego’s final steps.

He was unwilling, yet helpless. He had tried to call Lance, hoping to plead more earnestly, but Lance wouldn’t even answer his calls.

This made him realize that his personal countdown timer had started.

The sound of hurried footsteps and the door being forcefully shoved open made him look up at the person who entered: Ross.

Ross was wearing a military uniform, his face streaked with dust and oil.

”We can’t hold out any longer. We have no supplies, no ammunition. The entire front line is about to collapse. We need to find a way out.”

Pedro looked at Ross. He had generally looked down upon Ross, considering him ambitious but incompetent.

Until this moment.

Seeing the resolute expression on Ross’s face, despite the fatigue, Pedro suddenly realized his own deficiencies compared to Ross.

At least in terms of psychological resilience, he was likely inferior.

Ross maintained high fighting spirit regardless of favorable or unfavorable circumstances, but Pedro could not.

When facing severe adversity, he spiraled.

He tried to rally his spirits, but failed completely. ”Do we have any way out?”

Perhaps because his mind was sharper than Ross’s, he couldn’t see any escape route, hope, or possibility. That was why he was so decadent, acting like a useless man for the past two days, not even wanting to think.

Ross looked at him with frustration. ”Look at the state of you!”

”We haven’t lost yet!”

”We might have a chance to start over! Didn’t the Jede Republic want us to take power?”

”We escape first, then find a way to contact them and get them to fund us with weapons and equipment! We continue the fight!”

”I believe that one day, we can return here.”

Pedro looked at the excited Ross and slowly shook his head. ”First, even assuming the Jede Republic would support us, how do we escape?”

”The sea is blockaded, and the surrounding areas are surrounded. Right now, we are like crabs in a bucket; no matter how we run, we can’t get out.”

Ross hammered the table, standing up. ”Then let’s fight them to the death!”

Pedro leaned back in his chair and lit a cigarette. ”We’re almost out of ammunition. How do we fight?”

”With long swords or bayonets?”

”Or bows and arrows?”

Ross glared at Pedro. ”Are you just giving up?”

Pedro shook his head. ”It’s not that I want to give up. It’s just... from the start, everything was arranged.”

”Have you seen a movie?”

”Before the movie is even filmed, the ending is already written. Everyone, every actor, is just performing according to the script.”

”Performing according to the rigid structure of the story: beginning, middle, and end.”

”Even if the actors are excellent and inject some of their own understanding into the movie and the script, making small changes, they are powerless against the outcome.”

”Unless a higher power intervenes, like greater capital.”

”Unfortunately, in the movie of Rapa, we are minor characters. No one will invest too much in us, no matter who they are.”

Pedro seemed to be filled with deep emotion. He looked up at the decent sky outside the window. ”You should change your way of thinking, Ross.”

”Even a man like Diego couldn’t escape and had to wait here for our arrival, so we could kill him in front of everyone. What makes you think we can do any better?”

He turned back. ”Everything we have is thanks to the support of Lance and the Federal people. When they stop supporting us...”

As he spoke, he suddenly chuckled twice. He remembered reading a book that said when a person works hard but ultimately faces only despair, they will laugh.

At the time, he didn’t understand. If a person tried so hard only to fail, why would they laugh?

How could they possibly laugh?

Now he knew.

He was just like that, inexplicably wanting to laugh out loud.

”The dream is ending.”

”Ross.”

”The dream Lance wove for us is about to break.”

Ross looked at the somewhat hysterical Pedro and shook his head. ”I never imagined you were such a coward, afraid before the very end. I always considered you my greatest rival. It seems I overestimated you.”

Pedro seemed to have abandoned all hope. This was often the biggest flaw of clever people: they consider things too thoroughly and are too fixated on the ultimate goal.

It was like... a clever man standing outside a dead end can see the wall at the end instantly, and therefore won’t enter the alley.

But a fool will. Their thinking is: Maybe there’s a side road I can’t see from here, maybe there’s a way to climb over that wall.

Regardless of whether they can climb it or pass through the alley, they will go in and look first.

Pedro was undoubtedly a clever man. Faced with a situation where the ending was obvious, he couldn’t muster any will to struggle.

Conversely, Ross, whom he considered somewhat foolish, maintained his fighting spirit.

Seeing Pedro’s resigned appearance, Ross stamped his foot. ”If you won’t go, I will.”

He turned and strode away. He planned to take his men and attempt a breakthrough to the south, where the encirclement was reportedly weaker. Perhaps they had a chance to punch through.

If those defeated soldiers could escape, there was no reason they couldn’t!

Watching Ross leave hastily, Pedro shook his head at his retreating back. Could Lance not have thought of the same things they were thinking of?

Don’t forget, all their ideals, pursuits, and even dreams up to this day were personally woven for them by Lance!

He leaned lazily back in his chair, waiting for the grand finale.

Ross led his men away from the main front and quickly pushed south. This move instantly caused the already precarious defense line to completely collapse.

Pedro and Ross represented the top factions in the entire anti-government force. If they started to flee, how could anyone else resist the tribal coalition army?

While the phrase ”defeat collapses like a mountain” might not be used here, the result was the same.

Large numbers of soldiers retreating from the front line began looting everything they could, then followed Ross’s main force south.

Some people managed to find boats and attempted to flee by sea, but their vessels were attacked by warships the moment they left the harbor.

The whole of Zhuolan was like a pot of boiling water. The water inside the pot was already bubbling violently; the ”ingredients” were maturing in the churning water and would soon be served.

In just one afternoon, the tribal coalition army had entered the city. Gunfire filled the air.

The stench of blood hung heavy in the air.

Pedro stood by the window of the Presidential Office, holding binoculars, watching everything unfold in the city.

Even soldiers who knelt on the ground with their hands raised in surrender were ultimately shot.

Every intersection became an execution ground. Groups of people were gathered, shot dead, and then replaced by the next group.

The ground was stained red with blood. Pedro finally understood Lance’s intention: they were consuming these young men who still held a passionate spirit.

They were the sparks of resistance against Federal rule and all subsequent unreasonable dominance!

Only by extinguishing these sparks first could the Federation better rule the country!

He felt agonizing pain, because he, too, had played an inglorious role. If he hadn’t been misled, perhaps Rapa could have preserved these seeds of resistance, and one day in the future, they could have achieved a truly meaningful revolution!

Instead, they were like this: captured, kneeling on the ground, shot through the body, and left to die by the roadside.

He lowered the binoculars and slowly closed his eyes. Tears squeezed out from between his eyelids.

He was an accomplice, an executioner, and could even be called a traitor!

If not for him, if not for them, things might not have turned out this way!

At this moment, he suddenly realized that although Diego was a bastard, at least under his rule, the Federal people dared not interfere arbitrarily.

The expansion of Federal power and dominance here was not caused by Diego or anyone else, but precisely by the rebels, by them, who dreamed of revolution and change for Rapa!

They were the true sinners of this country, and Diego, whom he had sentenced, was actually the hero!

The gunfire gradually subsided around noon the next day. When they found Pedro, he was sitting on the steps outside the Presidential Palace.

He was ashamed of his past actions. He had originally wanted to sit in Diego’s chair one last time, but he abandoned the idea.

After realizing he was a sinner, he recognized he had no right to sit in that chair.

He watched the tribal soldiers surround him from all directions, his face devoid of any expression, for he knew this was the end of the ”movie.”

Suddenly, several vehicles drove up quickly. They dragged a person out of one of the cars and dumped him at the foot of the steps.

Pedro looked at the person, his expression shifting slightly. It was Ross.

Ross lay on the steps, looking up at the sky. He had two bullet holes in his forehead, the back of his head was largely shattered, and his brains were scattered somewhere.

Pedro had expected this. Ross was unlikely to escape. Given Lance’s capabilities, he wouldn’t allow any threat to persist.

It was even possible that the initial escape route for the defeated soldiers was deliberately shown to them.

More rebel leaders were then brought forward, some as corpses, others looking miserable.

They looked at Pedro, sitting on the steps, their expressions varied.

The corpses belonged to those who refused to surrender to the very end. Since they wouldn’t surrender, they were eliminated.

Lance never instructed them to leave survivors. They were just a group of rebels. Killing them was fine; their part in the performance was over, and they had no more value.

Those who were alive had begged for their lives on their knees at the last moment, which was why they were captured alive.

Several officers walked up the steps. One of them stopped in front of Pedro, looking down at him. ”Are you Pedro?”

He seemed somewhat incredulous that a middle school teacher who looked neither threatening nor aggressive could become one of the most important actors in the climax of this film.

Pedro adjusted the glasses on his nose. ”There shouldn’t be a second person named Pedro here, so you must be looking for me.”

The officer nodded, seemingly satisfied with Pedro’s cooperation. After all, the credit for capturing such a ”ringleader” alive was certainly greater than for a corpse.

He waved his hand. ”Arrest him...”

Several soldiers aggressively rushed forward. Pedro offered no resistance as they tied him up with rope.

The officer then led his soldiers in clearing the entire Presidential Palace.

Subsequently, large numbers of tribal representatives or tribal leaders—the former ministers of the Rapa government—appeared at the Presidential Palace.

And then, that man.

After a large number of men in trench coats (Federal personnel) took control of the key areas inside the Presidential Palace, a motorcade led by armored cars arrived at the base of the steps. Pedro stood near the Palace gate, watching Lance walk up.

Behind Lance were the ministers, the tribal leaders, chieftains, and their representatives.

In that moment, a feeling of being overwhelmed by a colossal force arose!

Pedro truly experienced the concretization of ”power” for the first time. The aura Lance exuded was on a completely different level from what he had displayed before.

Just one look was enough to feel suffocated.

Lance’s steps were neither fast nor slow. He soon reached the outside of the Presidential Palace gate. He glanced at Pedro, offering a characteristic smile.

It was composed, calm, and almost less like a smile and more like an expression of emotion.

He said nothing, merely giving a slight nod before passing Pedro and walking into the Presidential Palace.

At ten o’clock that morning, Rapa Central Radio broadcast to the nation and the entire Yalan region: the government army, composed of the tribal coalition, had fully recaptured Zhuolan and the surrounding areas today.

The bandit leader Ross was killed while attempting to flee, and the other ringleader, Pedro, was captured alive outside the Presidential Palace.

The broadcast announced that the twenty-one remaining tribal states (excluding the few that were eliminated) would form a provisional government and would establish a new government after handling current affairs.

The news caused an uproar across Yalan. Ordinary people might only think the clean-up was incredibly fast.

Only the politicians understood that the Federation had finally taken its first step of invasion into Yalan!

Countless officials and politicians began communicating frequently. This was likely the busiest the Yalan telephone network had been since its creation!

Many people would find that telephone service in most cities had collapsed, as the limited lines were entirely occupied by high-level officials from various countries.

In addition to the announcements, Rapa Central Radio also mentioned that the main cadres and leaders of the rebels would be subjected to a public trial.

Interestingly, the location for their public trial was the exact same place where Diego was tried, and the timing was also the same.

Hiram strode into the Presidential Office, walked behind the President’s desk, and leaned down to whisper to Lance, ”Pedro wants to see you.”

Lance looked up at him, considered it for a moment, and said, ”Bring him over.”